Something to Remember Me By
by Peppette
Summary: A new villian has entered Gotham that takes Bruce Wayne to the edge and leaves him wondering about his own sanity and the validity of his chances to save Gotham.
1. Don't Wait Up, Alfred

**Disclaimer: So you can pretty much guess that I don't own Batman, Bruce Wayne, etc. (Crap!), but I do own the main heroine and a few other of the new characters that I am introducing to you here. Reviews are much appreciated since this is my first try. **

**Chapter One -- **_**"Don't Wait Up, Alfred"**_

"Do you understand me? You must do this!" He grasped at her arms, her wrists, her hands. Anything he could to get her attention. "Listen to me! You must not let him _win_."

She nodded carefully, avoiding the site of his gnarled and claw-like fingers as they gripped her hands. "I-I will." She whispered. Shaking, she struggled to pull away. But his fingers only tightened their hold. "You _must_ do this. You cannot let your fear stop you." He wheezed, a cough swallowing up his following words.

She could only nod. "Yes. Yes. I know."

He shook his head. "No. No, you don't." He pulled himself up and jerked her down to him. "He cannot go. You must not let him get there. Stop him. He must..._lose_."

The man started to tremble as he fell back upon the bed. He shook wildly as his eyes rolled back in his head. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, and he thrashed madly, muttering out of his head as the last effects of the control took over him in a frenetic climax. "End it!" He challenged, his glassy eyes glaring at the unseen force around him. "End it!"

Stumbling backwards she fought against the rise of her terror. She lost her footing and began to crawl, pulling hard against the ropes of fear that had begun to twirl up her arms and around her neck like noose, immobilizing her. Clawing at her throat she gasped for air. Her binds became tighter. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.

_HELP! _Her mind screamed. _Help me!_

_No one can help you now... _

_Someone can! I can! _She thought, falling prostrate to the floor.

_You cannot let your fear stop you,_ the singsong voice taunted.

"No. I won't." She gasped. Her throat tightened once more and she knew that all hope was lost. A curling scream tore from her soul, and then she was gone.

Bruce Wayne leaned over his desk and paged through his notes once more. "It doesn't make any sense, Alfred. There's no connection. They seem like nothing but random events."

"Did you ever consider, Master Wayne, that they may only be random events?" Alfred remarked, spying over Bruce's shoulder.

"Never, Alfred. They are connected. They are. I just haven't found what connects them. I just haven't figured out what that is yet."

"Then I don't suppose, sir, that I will be able to convince you not to go out tonight?" Alfred asked in a resigned tone.

" I don't know enough yet, Alfred. I can't stop until I know everything." Bruce stood up and left the study and strode down the hallway.

"You've gone out every night this week, but never once as Bruce Wayne. The good people of Gotham are going to start wondering what you are doing with your time. And money." Alfred pointed out.

Bruce glanced over his shoulder. "I haven't missed any of the important charity events, have I?"

"Not one." Alfred replied briskly.

"Then I have no doubt that neither I nor my money have been missed. The superior people of Gotham haven't really wanted me at their social soirees since the 'Drunken Billionaire Burns Home' incident." Bruce smirked.

"That really wasn't you fault." Alfred began.

"They don't know that." Bruce rejoined, swerving into the library and flipping up the antique brocaded rug.

"But I must admit that Wayne Manor has never looked better." Alfred observed.

"I did it all just for you, Alfred." Bruce murmured , his reply muffled from his position under the secret trap door.

"Especially the foundations, wouldn't you agree?"

Bruce's head appeared. "All the more reason for me to go out again." He winked and then disappeared again.

"And where would you be heading to tonight, Master Wayne? Maybe to dig up some breaking news?" Alfred's eyes held a teasing twinkle. "She won't be happy if she catches you."

"Since when does she catch me?" Bruce asked flippantly. "I'll be back late. Don't wait up, Alfred."

"Just who does he think he is? Lording over the city of Gotham like some twisted guardian angel. The man is a freak, and yet all these people...these damn do-gooders think he's wonderful." Ceasing his pacing he gazed out the window and down into the Narrows. A storm seemed to gather above his furrowed brow as he plotted and planned there. "I'll show him! I'll prove them all wrong. Soon Batman will be doing my bidding, and then what shall the city of Gotham do?"


	2. Someone Let a Prowler In

**Disclaimer: Let me say it again...I don't own the Batman, or the very lovely Bruce Wayne, or even Alfred or the Batmobile. I basically only have a dime and a Beagle to my own name. So there!**

"Your eyes will fall out if you keep glaring at your computer that way."

Victoria "Vic" Kensington jumped at the sound of her fellow journalist, Ed Bailey's voice. "Shut-up, Ed." She snapped. "Are you leaving?"

"Yep. Unlike others in this room, I like to work normal hours so I can get home in time to see my wife while she's still awake."

Vic rolled her eyes. "And unlike you, I don't have a wife to go home to, or a significant other, or even a cat. So I think I'll stick around here a little bit longer and see what I come up with." She went back to typing.

"You'll never have a significant other or even a cat if you keep working yourself into an early grave like you are now." Ed added, leaning against the door jam as though he were settling in for a long conversation.

"Good night, Ed." Vic replied without looking up. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, I hope so." Ed muttered. "Unless that crazy guy you've been covering the news comes out here and kills you. It's not like he wouldn't know where to find you."

"Ed!" Vic sniped. "Door!"

"I'm locking the front door behind me." Ed called as he left office door slightly ajar behind him and his footsteps faded as he made his way out into the parking lot.

Pushing back from her desk, Vic heaved an aggravated sigh. She stood up and began to pace like a caged tiger. Laying her glasses on the table, she mentally reviewed all of the known facts about the latest crazy to swoop into Gotham. "It just doesn't add up." She spoke out loud. "Nothing here makes sense."

Growling in frustration she shoved all of her papers off of her desk and kicked her rolling chair across the room. A moment later this was followed by a distant thump. She looked up. "What...was that?"

Creeping out of her office she snuck out in the hallway. "Hello?" She called softly, afraid of actually being heard. "Ed, are you still here?"

Another thump echoed further into the building.

"Oh, for god's sake." She muttered, striding down the hallway to the editor's office. With Ed's cryptic words about lunatic murderers coming after her dancing through her mind, she flung the door open and flipped the light switch, expecting the crack of a gun to soon follow. Instead she saw nothing as the pale yellow light flooded into the room. Everything was in its place.

"Maybe I am working too late." She digressed, as she wound her way back to her own office which was really more like an over-sized closet with one very small dingy window. "I'll just finish my paragraph and then leave." She decided firmly, pushing back the nervous inklings that caressed the back of her mind.

Vic had just reached her office when the mother of all thud's reverberated against her office door. "What the hell?!" She paused and pressed her ear to the wood, listening intently. "Who are you? What are you doing in there?" She whispered. Someone was, without a doubt, in her office, rifling through her scattered papers.

Oh, crap, what to do now?

Backing away from the door, she dashed down the hallway in the other direction and went skidding into the coat room. Finding the massive old umbrella that had been housed there since her internship there as a teenager six years before, she walked resolutely back to her office door. Without thinking, she kicked it open, and with roar, ran in swinging only to find an empty room.

"What in the name...," she mumbled, still standing with the umbrella poised over her head, ready to come crashing down on the supposed attacker. Her eyes carefully scanned the room once more. Nothing seemed out of place, or at least no more than it had been already. As her arms lost all their strength, she dropped her age umbrella on the floor and waded through all her things, noting each one and carefully checking for each piece. "Nobody took anything that was in here. But I heard someone! I know I did...didn't I?" She stomped her foot on the floor. "I have definitely not gone insane! Someone was here...so how in the hell did they get out?"

"I'll figure it out tomorrow." Vic decided, gathering her purse and cell phone off of the desk. With one last glance over her shoulder, she flicked the light switch and left her office without noticing the bat that clung to the building just outside her window.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Early Friday morning Vic stormed into the office of the Gotham Gazette and charged over to the desk that belonged to Ed Bailey. "Just who did you let into this office last night?"

Ed looked her blankly for a moment before catching her burning expression. "Um...uh, n-no one...?" He stuttered.

"Wrong answer!" Vic bellowed. "I know you let someone in here before you left last night, because all the doors and windows were locked, and yet "somehow" there was a prowler thumping and bumping around the place. And you," she pointed an accusing finger, "were the last to leave!"

"But...but that doesn't mean that I-that I let someone in...a prowler as you put it. If there was someone of the kind lurking about the place, he-he could have even been hiding in here before I left." Ed said defensively, sitting up in his chair.

"Please," Vic guffawed, slamming her paws down on the nicked up wood of the desk. "That is as likely a story as I ever heard."

"Vic, I didn't let anyone in." Ed emphasized, throwing his hands up in the air in an act of surrender. "If someone got into this building, I certainly didn't help them. Why would I do that to you?"

"You're right." Vic deflated**.** "I'm sorry." She paused. "But someone was in here, and I want to know who, because they were snooping around in my office, looking for god only knows what."

Ed chuckled. "Hey, you never know, maybe it was that Bat guy you're so fond of, stopping in to say hello."

Vic wrinkled her nose with a snort. "I doubt it was him. The loony bin usually has such advanced cases locked up at that time of night."


	3. A Charity Event With Bruce Wayne?

**Disclaimer: Yada, yada, yada...here we go again with another new chapter that has some interaction between our two main characters. Yippee! In the next two or three chaps things should really start to get interesting. I hope...hehe.**

"There is something about a newspaper office that I just find so fascinating."

Vic looked up with wide eyes as Bruce Wayne strolled into her office, his long trench coat swung over his shoulder. His hair held that still damp look from the rain that was pattering the streets of Gotham outside.

Setting her mouth in a thin line, Vic arched a brow. "Is that so?"

"Why, yes." Bruce moved a stack of her files off of the seat of a spare chair that was sitting against the wall and made himself comfortable. "There always seems to be such a sense of urgency pervading the place. I like it." He smiled.

Vic felt bored. "What you're feeling is probably something we like to call a deadline. We have to make those things to keep the big people happy." She turned back to her computer.

"Is that what it is? You learn something new every day." Bruce remarked, gazing around her office with a keen interest.

"Can I help you with something now that we've had our teaching for the day, or did you just feel the need to stop in and be neighborly?" Vic finally asked after silence hung had between them for what felt like ages. She sat back in her chair and tapped her foot impatiently.

"I was just going to be friendly and drop by." Bruce began. "But now that you mention it, there is this one thing."

Vic resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "And what is that?"

"Now, I don't want you to feel obligated to do this or anything...it's completely up to you. I'm just asking. If you want to say no, say no. You won't hurt my feelings. Okay, you might a little bit, but I'll get over it, so if you don't feel comfortable-."

"Mr. Wayne!" Vic interjected. "Just get to the point."

"Please," he said smoothly, "call me Bruce."

_How about Rico Suave?_

"Get to the point, Bruce." Vic said, placing her chin in her hands and waiting expectantly.

"I'm having a charity gala at Wayne Manor this evening. I would like to extend a personal invitation to you. As my date."

Vic sucked in a breath and almost choked on the coffee she had been swigging. "I'm sorry." She coughed weakly. "Come again? I don't think that I heard you correctly."

"A charity gala tonight. At my place." Bruce said nonchalantly, leaving his chair and wondering over to her small bookshelf. He browsed the titles. "And if you want," he examined a book, "I would be honored to have you as my date."

"Well, that's lovely of you ask. But I'm not much of a charity gala person. And I like dates even less." She stood up and walked over to the door of her office. "So thank you for the offer, but no thanks."

"You should come anyway." Bruce said on his way out. "It would make a great story for the paper. I'll put you down for a plus one. Beef or chicken?"

Vic gaped at him, not quite believing what she was hearing. "Um, I guess beef."

Bruce flashed a grin. "Great. Call me if you change your mind about the date thing."

"I don't have your number." Vic said.

"You're an investigative reporter. I'm sure you can track it down somehow." Bruce breezed out her door. "Have a great day, Miss Kensington!"

8888888888888888888888888888888

"How did it go, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked, holding the door for Bruce as he slid into the back of the car.

"She said no." Bruce grinned. "Just like I knew she would."

"You sound pleased, sir." Alfred observed.

"She'll call me, Alfred. She'll change her mind." Bruce said with confidence. He slouched against the plush leather seat of the car. "And when she does I will be right here, waiting by the phone."

"What is it that you need her for, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked as they drove back through the streets of Gotham towards Wayne Manor.

"I only need her for one thing, Alfred. But she has to trust me first."

"Trust you, sir? I don't believe that she even likes you." Alfred chuckled.

"Of course not. Why would she? She thinks that I'm a billionaire playboy that was arrogant enough to burn his own mansion down just so he could build it exactly the same way a second time. Mostly she doesn't like my 'image'." Bruce shrugged. "She'll call, she'll come, we'll dance, and I will woo her."

"I wouldn't be so certain of that, Master Wayne. From all that I have observed, she seems to be of the kind that is most likely to go her own way." Alfred warned. "What if she doesn't call?"

"You worry too much, Alfred." Bruce murmured from the backseat where he had laid his head back and closed his eyes.

"Yes, sir, but what if she doesn't call?"

Bruce cracked an eye and smirked. "She'll call, Alfred. Don't worry. She will call."

88888888888888888888888888888888

Vic stared at her phone in disgust. "Remind me why I am doing this again." She grumbled to her longtime friend and cohort, Jinni Jenkins.

"Nobody makes the news like Bruce Wayne. If you go in and do this, you never know what kind of story you just might come up with." Jinni prodded, poking Vic in the shoulder.

"But I was going to go anyway. Alone. Why can't I just do that? I really, really do not want to have to deal with this guy." She grimaced. "I'd rather have it be blatantly clear that I was only there for the story and nothing more. I don't want him to think I'm interested."

"I think you are interested." Jinni said knowingly. "If you weren't at least a little into him, you wouldn't be fighting this so hard."

"I. Do. Not. Like. Him." Vic replied with conviction.

"Then prove it." Jinni picked up the phone and held it out towards Vic. "Call the man. You have his number, right?"

"Yes." Vic mumbled.

"Make the call, Vic. Do it for the paper." Jinni added.

"Fine!" Vic snatched the phone from Jinni's hand and slowly dialed up Bruce Wayne. "It's ringing...god, I cannot believe I let you talk me into this."

Jinni sat back and watched with satisfaction as Bruce picked up.

"Miss Kensington, I thought you'd never call."

Vic made a face. "Yes, well, it seems that I have changed my mind about tonight."


	4. What do you think of Batman?

Disclaimer: So Brucey is not mine (sadness), but why do you keep making me say that? Anyway, here is some interaction between our two favorite characters other than Batman himself, along with some interjection by our villain! R & R, pleeeeease!!

In the velvety darkness of a Gotham night, Wayne Manor glowed like a beacon from its perch on a hill overlooking the city. The view was one that extended for miles around. A soft evening breeze swayed in the trees, and stars winked out from the clear, black sky.

Inside the great mansion, the charity event was in full swing.

"How are you enjoying yourself, Miss Kensington?" Alfred said, coming up behind Vic to stand beside her.

Vic smiled placidly. "Lovely. Given my absent date."

"Master Wayne is mingling." Alfred attempted to explain.

Vic chuckled. "I didn't say that it upset me that he was absent, Alfred." She tipped her flute of champagne back and drained its remains. "This," she wiggled the glass, "has been company enough."

Alfred smiled knowingly. "Indeed, Miss Kensington." With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he turned to walk away.

"Why did Bruce ask me to be his date if only to leave me standing alone in the corner, Alfred?" Vic finally asked, breaking the silence.

"That is a question that only he can answer, Miss Kensington. You should ask him, for I should very much like to know myself."

Vic sighed and picked absentmindedly at the glitter that shimmered against her black cocktail dress and shifted on her black heels. She had the realization that her feet hurt from standing there for so long. "This has been a waste of my time." She muttered with a frustrated sigh. Leaving her corner she began making her way through the crowd. Weaving through the wealth of human traffic, she finally made it to the door where she was presented with her purse and wrap. "Thank you." She said shortly with a curt nod of her head.

Casting a glance over her shoulder, Vic met Bruce Wayne's eyes in the crowd. She shook her head and pursed her lips in a gesture of disgust and turned briskly on her heel to walk away. She was making her way down the front steps of the mansion when she heard Bruce behind her.

"Miss Kensington!"

She ignored him and kept on walking.

"Miss Kensington! Victoria!"

She whirled. "What."

Bruce paused, as though he couldn't think of the right thing to say.

She smirked. "That's what I thought. You are exactly what I thought you were. Nothing more than a billionaire playboy." She raked him with a scathing glare. "I have no idea why I agreed to this!"

"I do." Bruce replied, grinning lazily.

Vic rolled her eyes. "Just because you are a billionaire, Mr. Wayne, it does not mean you have all the answers to all the questions in this world."

Bruce shook his head. "No, Miss Kensington, I don't. But I do know the answer to this question. Would you care to hear my hypothesis?"

Against her better judgment, Vic nodded.

"You came tonight, Miss Kensington, because whether you care to admit it or not, you are curious about me and about Wayne Manor. You're curious about how I spend my time when I'm not in the public eye. You're extremely curious about what I might be doing with all of my money." Bruce came to stand uncomfortably close to her. "Just how close to the truth am I?"

Flustered, Vic turned away from him. "I'm the journalist here. I should be the one asking all of the questions."

Bruce spread his hands. "Then ask away."

"No." Vic replied. "You're making this far too easy."

"What do you want me to do? Dance around and avoid you and all your little journalistic tape recorder like the plague? Act like I've got everything in the world to hide?" Bruce peered at her steadily, waiting for her answer.

"Yes!" Vic retorted. "At least then I would no you weren't hiding something. If there is anything that I have learned about the social elite in Gotham, it is that they want you to think they have something to hide even when they don't. They like the scandal, the intrigue. You on the other hand, Mr. Wayne, are far too open, leading me to believe that you are hiding something." She stood her ground and met his gaze, waiting for him to flinch or break eye contact. Anything to signal that what she guessed was right.

"That is an intriguing supposition, Miss Kensington," Bruce murmured. He paused and then asked, "Tell me, what do you think of Batman?"

Vic blinked, startled by the sudden change of topic. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"More than you might guess." Bruce replied. "Just tell me what you think of the caped crusader." He grinned at the nickname.

"On the record or off the record?" Vic asked, fiddling with her purse strap.

"Both."

"On the record, I think the man is yesterday's news. He infatuated the people for a while, but like all of the great heroes they will tire of him, and eventually turn against him." She shrugged. "Personally, I think the man is a fraud."

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like you're harboring some animosity towards our batty friend."

"Anyone that flies around Gotham at night in a rubber suit and a cape must have some kind of hidden agenda. Mark my words, he casing the joint, and just waiting for his moment to swoop in and take whatever it is that he's after." She frowned. "I think he wants to hurt this city."

"Why don't you ask him and find out for yourself? I can already see the headlines." Bruce chuckled. "Gotham's leading investigative reporter gets the first sit down interview with the infamous Batman."

"You're mocking me." Vic warned.

"If this Bat guy is after something, what do you think it is?"

"I wish I knew." Vic shook her head. "I think he might be mixed up with this new villain that I've been following lately." She turned away and walked back to the steps of Wayne Manor and sat down, missing the momentary expression of alarm that crossed Bruce's face.

"Don't tell me Gotham is under siege again." Bruce said half-jokingly.

"This guy is bad. Worse than the last crazy that came stampeding through the streets, looking to dominate Gotham." She shuddered. "He's real. He's very real."

"And you're afraid of him." Bruce finished her unspoken thought.

"I'm afraid of what he can do. Of what he might be able to do. There is still so much I don't know. Nothing adds up here...it is all so random...," she trailed off.

"I wish I could help." Bruce said quietly.

Vic glanced at him silently and then looked away again.

"Maybe you should call in the Batman for some back up. Just in case." Bruce smirked knowingly.

Vic pinned him with a stoic glance. "I was just beginning to like you. Now you blew it."

"Maybe I can fix that." Bruce came and took her hand, pulling her up off the step. "Come inside and dance with me. The night is still young, after all."

She eyeballed him for a moment before nodding her acquiescence. "Fine. Lead on, playboy."

888888888888888888888888

From the corner swathed in shadows he watched them. He scowled and glared at them as they spoke. That reporter would be trouble for him. Just as journalists always were. "Well, fine." He growled. "I can take care of you just as easily as the rest. And your little boyfriend, too."

Glaring into the night sky he looked for the one he really wanted. "Maybe I can use you to lead me to the Batman. An upstanding citizen such as he wouldn't let an innocent goody goody like you fall to someone like me." He laughed a coarse and brittle laugh. "Come to me, my pretty, come to me."


	5. I won't be feeling sorry

Disclaimer: Here is just a little bit of that Batman that I don't own. I had originally thought that there would be more of him in this chapter, but things went a different way when I started writing. So you'll have to be content with this for now. R & R much appreciated!!

The icon blinked lazily against the blank screen of Vic's computer. She absentmindedly drilled her fingers against her desk, her mind elsewhere. She mentally played back the whole of her last conversation with Bruce Wayne. There was something there, she knew it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, this important piece of evidence had clicked, but it had yet to surface outside of her subconscious. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, thinking.

Maybe it wasn't important, and maybe it would be best for her sake to just leave it alone, or worse yet, maybe she was only looking for a story, but she had to find out. She couldn't walk away from something, not when her investigative instincts told her to keep going.

"Damn." She whispered under her breath. "I really was beginning to like this Bruce Wayne guy." She glared at the computer screen

"You're doing it again." Ed came and stood in her door like always. "Seriously, I think you could scorch a small mammal with that expression."

"Hush. I'm trying to think." Vic waved a hand and closed her eyes. "There's something big here, something I missed...something -- something that might help me break this open."

"Really?" Ed asked casually, glancing at the clock on her wall. "Do you think that's wise?"

"Of course, Ed." She replied, peering at him. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I was just thinking of your personal safety, that's all." He said, his eyes turning to the window.

"There is a mad man running around the streets of Gotham, doing unspeakable things to the people, and you want me to do nothing?" Vic scowled at him. "Somebody has to do something."

"I'm just saying that if the police are keeping this quiet, and don't want this getting out, I don't see why you have to go putting your nose in the middle of it. It seems like nothing more than a good way to get it cut off." Ed shrugged.

"That is exactly why I have to do this, don't you understand?" Vic asked. "If the police won't try and stop this, or at the very least try and warn the people, then I have to."

"No, you don't!" Ed cried. "You're just a reporter, Victoria. Nothing more. I'm warning you, stay out of this!"

Vic rose out of her chair. "No."

"Then you know what? What you end up in a body bag, I won't be feeling sorry for you."

"Get. Out." Vic said lowly, her voice shaking.

"Fine." Ed bit out, turning to leave.

"I don't know what has happened to you, Ed Bailey, but you are not the same man that I used to work with." With these parting words, Vic closed the door on him.

Surveying her office, she suddenly felt like she wanted to be anywhere but there. Gathering all of her files together, she stuffed them into her bag, threw the rest of her paraphernalia together, and then left the room. Turning out all the lights, she locked up before she left.

Facing the dark alley that led to where she parked her car, she has an ominous feeling of foreboding ripple through her. Memories of her fear of the dark as a child washed over her, freezing her steps for a moment. Shaking it off, she started through, gripping her bag with an iron fist and moving as quickly as she could. Her back was stiff, all of her muscles taught and tense. Her senses were all humming as she listened and watched, warily waiting for something to happen. And then seemingly out of nowhere, Ed's words echoed through her mind.

_When you end up in a body bag, I won't be feeling sorry for you._

Vic jumped as though someone had shouted them at her. Her eyes darted around the alley, looking for anything that could be used as weapon. Someone was here with her, she could feel them there hovering above her, just waiting for her to run.

_When you end up in a body bag..._

There were those words again, only this time they were so different than when Ed had said them. They were singing to her, taunting her.

"Leave." She said desperately, her mouth dry. "Leave me alone."

_I won't be feeling sorry for you._

"Go away." She whispered, tears welling up into her throat.

Then came something that she hadn't heard before.

_Make me._

The words were mean and ugly. A challenge.

The darkness seemed to move and it began to swirl around her, trapping her. It dipped in and out, opening up and then swooping in to form an even tighter prison.

Visions of monsters in the closet and the boogeyman from her childhood filled her mind, only now they more vivid and frightening than they had ever been. They were so real and terrifying to her adult mind that she began to claw and fight. They were coming after her, threatening to kill her.

"Leave! Leave alone!" She shrieked.

_LEAVE ME ALONE! _The guttural voices of the monsters seemed to shout back at her.

"Okay. Okay." She whimpered, backing up. Her shoes slipped on the greasy macadam of the alley and she fell down. "No, no, no." She bawled, clawing at the ground as she attempted to crawl away. She could feel them coming up behind her, inching ever closer to her.

"HEEEEEEELP!" She cried. "Somebody help me!"

Groping frantically into the darkness, she felt two hands reach down and grasp her wrists. Looking up, she met a pair of hard, dark eyes hiding behind a mask.

She screamed.

888888888888888888888888888888888

Bruce bent down and lifted the writhing form of Victoria Kensington off of the ground.

"Sssh. Be still." He whispered, trying to soothe her. "You're safe."

"Don't. Stop. Just leave me alone." Vic pleaded. "I'll stop. I'll stop." She pulled at his hands.

Bruce cradled her against him. "No, you have to stay with me."

She turned her face to him and clung to him. "Make him go away."

Bruce nodded and put a hand to her hair. "I will. Don't worry, I will."

His eyes peered into the darkness, searching for the source of her fear. Nobody was there.


	6. The key

Disclaimer: This is an all Bruce and Alfred chapter with Bruce and Vic interaction coming up in the next one. Please, please, please r & r even if you hate it!

Bruce laid on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling of his bedroom. The monotone of a ticking clock could be heard somewhere in the blackness. Light from the moon filtered its way through the tiny cracks in the drapes that covered the windows and threaded whimsical patterns on the carpeted floor. It was quiet.

As Bruce lay there, the ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder, louder, louder with each passing second. A film of sweat accumulated on his forehead and lower lip and for an unknown reason, his heart seemed to pound faster. He was nervous. He was worried. He couldn't sleep.

Throwing back the covers that had suddenly began to suffocate him; Bruce put his feet on the floor and dug his toes into the carpet. He swiped at the trickles of perspiration that dripped into his eyes and off of his nose. Standing up, he crossed the room slowly and threw back the curtains, allowing the complete brilliance of the full moon to come in. He needed to see the light tonight. He looked out over the city of Gotham that was sleeping below him.

Something very black, and something very disturbing was now roaming the streets of Gotham. Something that he wasn't sure he could fight physically or with any of his gadgets.

He turned away from the window and strode to the door of his room. With an uneasy glance over his shoulder he turned the knob and left his room, padding quietly down the long and shadowy wood-paneled hallway. He went three doors past his own and then paused. He quietly knocked.

The door opened a crack and the weary face of Alfred appeared.

"How is she?" Bruce asked, looking past Alfred to the bed.

"Not well, I think." Alfred said sadly. "Something has...disturbed her mind."

Bruce crept into the room and looked at Victoria Kensington. From the door it appeared that she only slept. When you were at her bedside, it was clear that she was agitated and frazzled. Her face was twisted uneasily and her hands gripped at the blankets. Her body was tense.

"What do you think happened, sir?" Alfred whispered.

"I don't know, Alfred." Bruce raked a hand through his already disheveled hair. "It wasn't something tangible. There was nothing there."

"Are you suggesting the supernatural?" Alfred asked quietly.

Bruce looked up. "It wouldn't be the first time." He said wryly.

"Perhaps she will remember something when she wakes up." Alfred suggested. "Just how are you going to explain to her how she ended up here, Master Wayne?"

"If she wakes up, Alfred. If." Bruce replied with emphasis.

"And what if she doesn't? Then how are you going to explain her being here?"

"If she doesn't wake up, Alfred, it means I wasn't able to protect her." Bruce said, his voice defeated. "It won't matter why she is here."

"Don't give up on her just yet." Alfred said confidently. "She's stronger than you think."

Bruce nodded. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"Afraid, sir?" Alfred asked as they left the room and he gently latched the door behind them.

"This is far from being over, Alfred. In fact, I think that it is just beginning." Bruce said somberly. "This...this thing won't leave her alone. It will just keep eating away at her, doing whatever it is that it does so well. She wasn't afraid to investigate it, she didn't fear it. I think that intrigued this...thing. Perhaps this," he searched for the right word, "this manifestation will take pleasure in breaking her down until she isn't anything anymore. Neither strength nor weakness."

"May I remind you that you don't know the motives of the one that did that to her. You're not even sure if it was the one you're after. It could have been..." Alfred waved his hands in the air. "It could have been an alley cat that jumped out at her and started to hiss at her, and it awakened a childhood fear of something much like that happening."

"Fear." Bruce said thoughtfully, not really paying attention to what Alfred was saying anymore. He tapped his chin and considered this again. "That must be some kind of...key element in all of this. Fear."

Alfred peered at Bruce, unable to discern what he was mumbling about. "Are you sure that alley cat didn't jump out at you, sir?"

"Alfred!" Bruce announced suddenly, turning abruptly to face him. "What is your greatest fear?"

Alfred blinked. "I'm afraid I don't understand the question."

Bruce muttered impatiently, nettled. "What is your greatest fear? That thing that you are most afraid of deep in your subconscious?"

"I always wait up for you, Master Wayne, did you know that?"

Bruce paused. "No. I didn't."

"And do you know why I do that, even though you tell me not to?" Alfred queried.

Bruce shook his head.

"My greatest fear, Master Wayne, is that one night you won't make it home. That something will happen to you while you're out prowling around the streets and rooftops of Gotham. And if you didn't make it home, what would I do?" Alfred spread his hands.

It was Bruce's turn to blink. "You would find something to do, Alfred. I'm sure that I would have left the bat cave a mess." He attempted a bit of humor.

"That you would." Alfred conceded. "Now, what is the connection with all of this 'greatest fear' business?"

"I think that this is all connected with your fears somehow...everybody is afraid of something. Somehow, this person is latching onto the fears of innocent people and making them come to life." Bruce banged the wall with his fist. "Finally! A break through."

"You do realize that loud noises are sure to disturb the patient even further, don't you?" Alfred remarked.

"Oh, yeah, that's great." Bruce replied, his eyes betraying that his mind was elsewhere.

"I'm off to see the Wizard, Master Wayne!" Alfred chortled.

"Go ahead. It's fine." Bruce said stoically, staring at the wall.

"There is a crazy madman down in the foyer, says they call him Raz Al Ghoul. He wants to see you." Alfred articulated, standing directly behind Bruce and speaking into his ear.

Bruce jumped. "WHAT?!"

"Nice to have you back with us, sir." Alfred smiled.

"Amusing." Bruce said without a smile. "I'm going down to the cave. I can't sleep anymore tonight." He jogged back to his room to throw a shirt on and then sprinted back down the hall to the stairs.

"I'll have breakfast prepared at seven a.m. sharp, Master Wayne!" Alfred called.

Bruce appeared again. "Make sure the bacon isn't too crisp. And I want my eggs sunny-side up today." He started to leave again then stopped. "Oh, and Alfred!"

Alfred looked back expectantly.

"If she wakes up, make sure you come and get me."


End file.
